


The Missing Piece

by MissLiveByThePen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred F. Jones is not a virgin, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Everyone hates Puritans, F/M, Jealousy, Kink Meme, Kink Negotiation, Language Kink, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, US speaking Spanish in bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLiveByThePen/pseuds/MissLiveByThePen
Summary: Arthur, Francis, and Matthew have waited nearly 150 years for Alfred to become mature enough for an adult relationship. After so many years, they believe it's finally time to welcome Alfred into the world of carnal pleasure.Unbeknownst them, Alfred hadn't been a virgin since the 1800s.





	1. Monroe Doctrine (Remix)

“Dios mío, Alfredo. Más, por favor, más.” (My God, Alfred, More, please, more)

It’s sweltering in Alfred’s hotel room, despite the A/C vibrating in the window. Sweat clings to his forehead as his mouth latches onto Antonio’s tanned neck. It’s all salt and the biting sting of tequila on the man’s skin, but the American nation found himself craving it. It had been far too long since Antonio graced his bed. “Hermoso, Antonio, hermoso. (Beautiful, Antonio, beautiful)” His pronunciation is off, but fuck it, neither cares while Alfred’s thick cock is grazing against his prostate. 

“Más, Alfredo.” (More, Alfred)

Antonio is beautiful spread out underneath him. He’s ethereal against the white sheets, his dark skin simply stunning in this setting. His breaths coming in gasps as his blunt fingernails scramble to hold onto Alfred’s shoulders. It had been far too long since they’d done this. This used to be an every meeting kind of thing, but Alfred found himself becoming much closer with the nations of South America after the end of the Cold War. 

They’d all decided to let bygones be bygones. Personifications couldn’t be held responsible for the actions of their humans. Alfred’s humans fucked up a lot during the Cold War. Fear was a powerful tactic that could be forgiven. It also didn’t hurt that Alfred was great in bed. He’d become a highly sought after bed partner in the Western Hemisphere. It had become their little secret. Their secret amendment to the Monroe Doctrine, you know, if you ignored Antonio’s involvement. 

“Alfredo!” 

Alfred smirked as he pressed his lips to Antonio’s own, swallowing down his moans as his sweat-slick hand wrapped around the man’s cock. When both found themselves drained and exhausted, the American collapsed on his side and tried to catch his breath. “Fabuloso, Antonio, fabuloso. (Fabulous, Antonio, fabulous)” 

Antonio laughed breathlessly rolling over until he had his arm wrapped around the American’s waist. “Your pronunciation is getting better, Alfredo.”

“I’m getting a lot of practice.” 

Antonio’s eyebrows disappeared into his dark, sweat-drenched hair. “Truly? That’s good.” He reached up to soothe his hand across Alfred’s chest. There were old bites marks lingering around those dusky nipples and rock hard pectorals. “Ahh,” he tapped a fading bruise, “Alejandro still has a biting problem. I tried to break it when he was small, but I was never successful.” 

Alfred snorted, rolling his eyes as he shifted to sit against the headboard. His sweaty back felt chilled against the cool wood. “It’s really fucking creepy whenever you mention raising the people I’m fucking.” He rather liked forgetting that he was breaking his rule of ‘no fucking Europeans’ with Antonio. Colombia would bite him harder if he realized the American passed him over for Spain. 

Antonio shifted, laughing as he stood up to retrieve his trousers. He never lingered in bed, which was fine for the American. He’d always slept alone, why stop now? “I cannot change history, Alfredo, no more than you can.” Once he was dressed, he leaned over the crumpled sheets to press a lingering kiss to the man’s lips. “Adios, mi amigo. (Goodbye, my friend).” 

Alfred lazily waved him away, grunting as he tossed the thin, dirty sheets to the floor. After a quick call to housekeeping for a new set of sheets, the exhausted American stumbled into the bathroom. He’d just slipped into a relaxing bath when the sound of his phone buzzing against the ceramic lamp in the bedroom captured his attention. 

He scrambled for a moment, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself as he traipsed through the hotel room. His slick hands fumbled for the phone before seeing ‘Mattie’ scrawled across the screen. Why would /he/ be calling today of all days? Wasn’t it their – as in Matthew, Arthur and Francis’ -anniversary? It had been sickeningly obvious the way they spent the entire meeting making eyes at each other. Just a constant reminder that some nations found happiness while Alfred was stuck jumping from bed to bed in an attempt to feel loved. No, he wasn’t going to supper with them while they unknowingly flaunted their happiness. He couldn’t handle it today. 

He let it ring.

If it were important, he reasoned as he slipped back into the bathtub, they would leave a message. If it wasn’t, then he didn’t need to hear it anyway. Alfred sighed as he sunk deeper into the water until his head was completely submerged and the buzzing disappeared. 

XXXXXXXX

“Is he answering?” 

Matthew glanced down at the phone in his hand, mutely shaking his head as he listened to Alfred’s voicemail pick up again. His southern neighbor always had his phone on him. He always picked up the phone when Matthew called him. “No,” the Canadian answered before placing the phone back on the counter, leaning back into Francis’ arms. “I hope he’s okay. I worry about him spending so much time alone.” 

“He’ll be fine,” Arthur insisted from his corner with eyes trained on the novel in front of him. To anyone else, it would look like he was enthralled in the words on the page, but his lovers knew he hadn’t turned a page since Matthew made the first call. He tried to hide it, but the man was worried. “He’s probably distracted with some video game or a new piece of legislation. You know how he gets whenever he has a project.” 

Francis simply shook his head as he pressed a kiss to Matthew’s cheek, releasing his young lover to make himself comfortable on the edge of the hotel bed. “Except, he didn’t look fine this morning.” There was no denying that the American seemed distracted. Every time one of them attempted to speak with him, Alfred would find another excuse to run away. It hurt the Frenchman’s heart to see the one he loved so despondent. “I know we discussed waiting another decade, but I cannot wait any longer. My heart is missing its final piece.” His choked-off sob was so pathetic that Matthew crossed the room just to hold him tight against his chest. 

Arthur scoffed at the display, placing his book on the edge of the bedside table. “Stop being melodramatic, Francis. Honestly, it’s like you live your entire life on a stage.” His harsh words did nothing to quell the soft sounds escaping the Frenchman’s mouth. The English nation stood with a muffled grumble as he walked over to soothe his lover. His hands slowly untangled wayward knots in the man’s wavy hair as he spoke. “I know it’s hard, loves. I know we want to welcome Alfred into our beds and our hearts, but we have to take it slow. His beginnings were different than ours! The Puritans had such a strong hold over the boy that he sees everything of a sexual nature as sinful. I want to introduce him to that pleasure without him feeling guilty.” 

“It’s such an injustice,” Francis complained bitterly as he turned to lounge against the bed. “How could they turn something so pleasurable into a sin? Your puritans be damned!”

Once more, Arthur rolled his eyes. He considered smacking Francis to stop those pitiful sobs, but he knew it would only make the situation worse. He didn’t need to start a fight with his lover right now. “I know it’s difficult, but you have to be patient. We want his first time to be special. We want to show him that our love is pure. I still don’t think he’s ready, but we can try to broach the subject with him.” 

Those words did quell some of the Frenchman’s tears. In fact, they even put a tiny smile on his face. “Tomorrow, then?”

“We may be able to speak to him after his meeting with Brazil,” Matthew suggested hopefully. He knew Alfred’s schedule like the back of his hand. Even when the American didn’t realize it, his Canadian neighbor was trying to take care of him. He liked to keep the meetings straight so he could intervene afterwards if there was a meeting with a particularly difficult topic. Whenever Alfred met with anyone from the Middle East, Matthew always made sure to stick close by so he could defuse his neighbor afterwards. “He and Luciano have a good relationship, so he’ll be in a good mood afterwards.” 

“He’ll need to be if we’re going to accost him and change his entire world,” Arthur muttered to himself as he took Matthew’s hand. “That settles it. We’re bringing our missing piece home.”

XXXXXX

Alfred hummed softly to himself as he flipped through the trade reports he needed to discuss with Luciano. Since the whole surveillance scandal, he’d been working diligently to repair the rift in his relationship with the Latin American nation. Not to mention, Alfred was attempting to nudge his way past China’s trade agreement with the nation. So far, it hadn’t worked as well as he thought it would, but their personal relationship was improving. Which worked in his favor because Luciano was fantastic in bed.

“Olá, Alfred!” 

The moment he heard the Portuguese greeting, he turned to give the shorter nation a grin. “Olá, Luciano. How was your flight?”

His grin was returned, but those dark eyes seemed far more interested in the way Alfred’s suit cut across his chest. They both knew how this meeting would end and that only made the American’s toes curl in anticipation. Once the work was over, he planned to let this man bend him over this table. 

“It was long. I was very glad to be back on land. I never thought I would miss sailing so much until airplanes became popular.” Luciano responded with a sigh as he walked over to place his hand on Alfred’s lower back. He peered over the American’s shoulder, tanned nose wrinkling at the graphs and long lies of text. “Do we have to look at these boring reports first? It has been a long time since I’ve touched you, querido.” (Dear)

As much as Alfred wanted to give in to the slowly growing arousal in his gut, he knew they wouldn’t get anything accomplished if he gave in so easily. Damn this man for knowing how to play him. “Work first,” he insisted as he pinched Luciano’s ass, “then you can have me however you want me.” 

“Ahh, don’t be a tease. I don’t know if I can last an entire meeting without touching you.” Even as he said those words with a teasing wink, the other nation sat across from Alfred at the table with his own set of files and folders. “Lets start then. Your people are having concerns with the current trade agreements, yes?” 

Hashing out the trade agreements took far longer than Alfred anticipated it taking, but that just meant the anticipation of the relief afterwards was never far from the forefront of his mind. As their meeting dragged, he found himself unable to sit still. Ever since he was old enough to know the carnal pleasures of the flesh, he’d become addicted to the feeling. For just a few moments, he was able to be one person’s entire world and seeing that adoration in their eyes was addicting. It was an aching need to be wanted and he was so glad he could steal these moments whenever possible. 

When the business meeting was finished, the American wasted little time in sticking to rigid decorum. He reached across the table to pull the other nation into a heated, lingering kiss. 

“So eager already?” Came the almost mocking voice of his partner, but the sting of his words was soothed over with a gentle peck to the lips. “Just as I like you, querido. Oh, you have danced through my dreams, lindo. (beautiful) Do you want me?” 

Luciano may have been shorter than him, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t strength in his form. An insistent tug on Alfred’s collar had him sprawled over the desk with his ass arched at just the perfect angle. While he hated to miss the look of lust in those dark eyes, he could appreciate the feeling of the man’s chest splayed against his back. 

“Demorou! (Of course/Hell yeah)” Alfred shouted back to the Brazilian, shivering as he was rewarded for his enthusiasm with hands reaching underneath him to unbuckle his belt and shimmy those slacks off his legs. He’d gone commando specifically for this reason. “Lube’s in the pocket, hon.”

“Always prepared,” the tanned nation joked as he plucked the tube of lube from Alfred’s pocket and slicked his fingers up. “I think that’s why I love our meetings,” he mentioned as he slipped his fingers inside the American’s puckered entrance, “you’re always so sweet and complying. I love having you like this. I love that you’re all ours.” 

Each insisted jolt of Luciano’s long fingers had Alfred grunting and rolling his hips. He’d always been a man of equal opportunity, so he never shied away from bottoming. (Sometimes he even preferred it when he really needed to have someone’s attention solely on him.) He was a little impatient with the preparations and groaned rather loudly when his partner continued stretching him instead of fucking him. “I would be all yours faster if you’d get your dick inside me.”

“So crass,” Luciano chided with a well-placed smack to Alfred’s ass cheek. “You never take the time to savor anything. You’ll just have to be patient, because I am going to savor you today.” Despite chiding Alfred was his eagerness, the Brazilian nation impatiently guided his cock into the tight heat in front of him. 

This was always Alfred’s favorite part. He felt full. Almost like his partners were filling up those places inside him there were empty. The feeling never lasted for long, but it sated him for a few moments. Luciano had never been a rough lover, but he loved drawing moans and grunts from Alfred’s lips. He babbled soft Portuguese into the American’s ear and half the time Alfred couldn’t even translate it because his mind was being short-circuited by the long cock rubbing his insides. 

He was in utter paradise. His eyes slipped closed as he turned his head to seek the lips hissing filthy words into his ear. For that one moment, everything was perfect. 

“What the /fuck/ are you doing to him?” 

The sharp screech of an English accent shattered Alfred’s bliss. His heart dropped into his stomach as his eyes snapped open to see three different, yet so disappointingly identical set of eyes glaring between him and Luciano. As he scrambled away from his partner and tried to pick his dignity off the floor, Alfred mourned the loss of the warmth filling him up. 

He just wanted to be happy. What was so wrong with that?


	2. Treaty of Fontainebleau (Revisited)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a showdown in the meeting room and everyone leaves with their feelings hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your wonderful review! I appreciate each and everyone.

In the aftermath of those moments, all Alfred can remember is screeching and accusations being tossed around by the interloping nations. He redressed rather quickly, but all hopes of an escape were thwarted by the combined bulk of Matthew and Francis in the doorway. It was almost like they were Arthur’s guard dogs and refused to let Alfred pass unless he wished to deal with their own special blend of sharp disappointment. 

Part of him wished he’d never gotten out of bed this morning. If he hadn’t agreed to this last minute meeting out of fucking greed and need, he could have lounged around his hotel room until it was time to return home. Mexico would have enjoyed bending him over. Fuck, he could have even convinced Colombia to take a special trip to see him. Yeah, his bites had just healed, but fuck it, Alfred was a needy person. 

Through all of the screaming he remained as silent as a tomb until Arthur began to move closer to Luciano. He wasn’t going to allow the Brazilian nation to be harmed because of his strange friends. With all the strength he could muster, Alfred slammed his hands on the desk in front of him. “Stop it! Stop it right now!” 

“No,” Arthur snapped back, “I will not stop it! He’s taking advantage of you!” 

Now that was a ridiculous notion. It actually made Alfred giggle. He was the United States of America. He’d spent the last few decades manipulating things to work in his favor. He’d been the one to take advantage of so many others in an attempt to ‘stop Communism’. “Arthur, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I came to him. He wasn’t doing anything I didn’t ask for.”

That very statement seemed to cause a malfunction in Arthur’s brain because his eyebrows twitched together and his face went slack. “You..you gave your virginity to him?” 

The entire room went silent as he stared between Arthur and the equally shocked faces of Francis and Matthew. His lips twitched into a ridiculous smile as he began laughing uncontrollably. “Arthur, dude, I haven’t been a virgin since 1801. How else do you think I got Antonio to agree to give the Louisiana colony back to France?” 

Maybe him dropping that bombshell on Arthur wasn’t the smartest thing to do considering Antonio was not his favorite person and he could hear the Spaniard singing in the hallway. Arthur did a complete military about-face and stomped through his lovers before disappearing down the hall. 

Matthew looked distraught, which made no sense. Yeah, they were neighbors, but that didn’t mean he really had to care about the situation. He kept glancing between Alfred and Arthur’s dust trail before deciding to follow Arthur. That left Francis, who simply walked into the room to apologize to Luciano and demanded a private audience with Alfred. 

At this point, Alfred was beyond done with the entire situation. His ass ached, he’d been denied his orgasm, and he could feel the beginnings of a stress headache developing behind his eyelids. His glasses clattered as he pulled them off and shoved them into his pocket. He balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his tense eyelids. He didn’t want Brazil to leave, but the soft sound of the door clicking shut doomed him to his fate. “Go away, Francis. Go calm down Arthur before he kills Antonio.” 

“Non,” Francis spoke in front of him and soon enough cool fingers wrapped around his wrists to pull his hands away, “you’re the one I’m worried about. Arthur can handle himself.” His long fingers combed over Alfred’s face until they were rubbing in smooth, unbroken circles along his temples. “You always scrunch your eyes when you’re having a headache. You’re going to get wrinkles.” 

“We don’t get wrinkles,” Alfred snapped back as he finally opened his eyes to glance over at France. “Can’t you just go? Mattie is probably completely overwhelmed trying to pull Arthur away from Antonio. I need to....” 

“Matthew can handle himself,” Francis interrupted as he ignored every one of Alfred’s concerns in favor of steering him towards the table in the room. “I think we need to have a discussion. I..well,” he stumbled for words, which was unusual for the Frenchman. Alfred hadn’t ever seen him so unnerved. “Arthur and I have been in a relationship for a long time, Alfred.” 

Frustrated with the turn of this conversation, the American stood up from his chair to stomp out the door. He didn’t need love advice. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that his habits were harmful. He certainly didn’t want to hear about this centuries-long romance spanning his closest friends. “Look, I’ve lived this story. Not everyone gets a fairy tale and I’m not looking for placates about jumping from bed to bed.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to do!”

“I don’t care,” Alfred hissed back, refusing to stop as he crossed the room. He reached into his pocket for his glasses and placed them back on. “Tell Arthur to stop sticking his nose into my business. That goes for all of you. I just want to be left alone.” When he finally made it to the door, he ignored every single wounded sound that came from the man behind him. Honestly, Francis was far too emotional for his own good. 

As he left the meeting room, Alfred decided to take the long way to leave the building. Instead of going straight to the elevator, he found the nearest staircase and took the stairs two at a time until he was on the lobby floor. He was a bit worried that the trio would be downstairs waiting for him, but it was peacefully empty as Alfred slipped across the lobby. He didn’t really know where he was going, but he didn’t stop himself as he began walking down the crowded sidewalk. 

He walked even as his feet hurt. He walked even as his stomach growled. He walked even as the sun was going down behind the clouds. Through all of that, he didn’t stop because his mind was whirling over the incident. Pure, heated anger coursed through his veins because it wasn’t fair they broke up his good time. They weren’t his keepers. They weren’t his lovers. If Alfred wanted to fuck the entire world, that was his business. 

When he finally lost the will to walk any further, he found a park bench to collapse against. His phone buzzed in his pocket and a simple glance at the screen saw a number of missed calls and text messages. He even had several voice mails that he immediately deleted. He kicked his feet off the ground and swung them around so he could lounge on the bench. He knew he looked strange to anyone passing by. Who wouldn’t stare at the young man in an expensive Italian suit lounging on a dirt park bench? 

He knew he needed to return to the hotel, but he also knew there was a great chance someone would be waiting for him. Maybe he should take that chance? It was already growing colder and his stomach was beginning to eat itself out of hunger. With a soft sigh, he pulled up his Uber app and called a car to find him. 

xxxxx

“That could have gone better,” Matthew stated as he carefully bandaged a cut that ran across Arthur’s cheek. It would probably heal on its own, but he’d always believed in ‘better safe, than sorry’. “Next time, maybe don’t accuse random nations of rape?” 

Arthur grumbled as he nudged Matthew’s careful hands away from him. “I just lost it. I saw red. I had bloodlust.” He stood up from the hotel chair to peer into the vanity at the bruises across his face and chest. The fight with Antonio had gone just about as well as he expected it to. They both went home with damage, which was all he could hope for at his age. “It’s all fucked now.” 

“He’s so neglected,” Francis whispered from his seat near the window. He’d been staring down at the numerous, faceless people roaming the street in front of their hotel for hours now. “I tried to talk to him, but he threw it back into my face. He’s envious and jealous and hurt.” He ran his fingers through his hair as he gracelessly sunk into his chair. “We shouldn’t have waited.” 

“He wasn’t ready,” Arthur insisted as he used a wet cloth to dab at the worse of his scratch. 

Just those words seemed to ignite a fire in Francis. He jolted from his seat to point an accusing finger at Arthur. “He was ready! He’s always been ready! You’ve held us back because of your strange mix of paternal love for him. You didn’t want him to be ready because the moment he was ready, it meant he wasn’t the /colony/ you remember.” 

Arthur threw the cloth to the ground as he rounded on his French lover. “I did not sabotage this! When has he ever shown the maturity to handle this kind of relationship?”

“Plenty of times,” Francis growled sharply back, stalking closer until their chests were touching. “He’s not the complete idiot you like to paint him as. He’s handled himself with grace and maturity for nearly two centuries. You /have/ sabotaged this.” 

Just as it looked like they were going to come to physical blows, Matthew inserted himself between the angry men. “Stop it,” he ordered sharply, “just fucking stop arguing. It doesn’t matter,” he said as he nudged them away from each other, “who did what or who believed what. All that matters if that we have a chance to woo Alfred. Right? Our goal is still the same. We love him and we’re bringing him home.” 

Though their tempers were still flared, both men nodded in agreement before separating to opposite sides of the room. Later, they would give mumbled apologies to each other. For now, Matthew would leave them to their own devices. He mumbled out that he needed a little space before leaving the hotel room and heading to Alfred’s room. Maybe he could explain the situation better?


	3. Treaty of Ghent (Rearranged)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew gives it a go.

Of all the things Alfred expected when he returned to his room, it was not the image of Matthew sitting against the door playing Fortnite on his phone. His irritation from the day seemed to seep from his body as he sat beside the Canadian and randomly pressed areas on his screen to impede his gameplay. It was such a surprisingly normal interaction for the two. 

Mattie had been his first crush. He hadn’t realized it at first, but as a young nation, his heart always beat faster whenever the colony was around. He became a bit obsessed with his northern neighbor, even attempting throughout the 1800s to pull him from Arthur’s side. Matthew had been his first kiss. He’d stolen it at one of those fancy holiday balls Arthur threw to show off his power and wealth during the Victorian Era. Both of them were drunk off expensive wine and Alfred kissed him underneath the full moon. Neither ever spoke about that night because it ended with him and Arthur getting into a fistfight over something stupid. 

He thought he’d have a chance with Matthew after they fought together in the world wars, but he’d already made himself an important part of his triad. There was no room for Alfred there. There was no room for Alfred anywhere it seemed. So, Alfred pined from afar and pretended he was happy. It was surprisingly easy when he was able to bounce from bed to bed without worries of repercussions. 

“If I get killed, I’m hacking into your PSN account and deleting your Fallout saves.” Matthew threatened. Alfred took him seriously, too. Matthew was vicious enough to go for the throat. 

He pulled his hand away like a scolded child, digging into his pocket for his phone. “Are we just going to sit out here all night?”

Matthew shrugged as he chopped down a tree for lumber, “it’s up to you. Didn’t know if I was invited in after this afternoon.” 

Alfred groaned as he turned his head away from his neighbor and closed his eyes against the wave of fresh emotion. He had a dilemma. He loved Matthew, but he also felt animosity towards him. Matthew had so much love. Twice the love! Why couldn’t he share? Then, there was the fact that Alfred questioned why Matthew could have two lovers, but shut him out. Weren’t they close? Why was he ‘friend-zoned’? 

When he opened his eyes, he found Matthew’s look of concern damning. “You know you’re always welcome, Matt.” Since it looked like his game was over, he stood up and used his key to unlock the door. Housekeeping had already made their stop, which made Alfred feel a lot better considering his room had smelled so heavily of Antonio and sex. He took his suit jacket off and tossed it across the back of the lone chair in the room. “Make yourself at home,” he waved his hand towards the bed as he plopped down in the chair. Matthew’s eyes never strayed from the back of his chair and his hands inched forward just a little towards Alfred. 

“Your jacket…”

“Is fine,” Alfred finished with a loud sigh. He could already feel the tension settling back in his shoulders and the headache pounding against his temple. “Jesus, Mom, I think I can take care of myself.” 

“Can you?” Matthew snapped back quickly, “because from what I’ve seen today, I have my concerns.”

Alfred snapped his mouth shut, hands clenching into fists. He wanted to scream at Matthew. He wanted to holler and throw a tantrum. Instead, he glanced away from the Canadian. “You don’t need to be concerned. I’m not a child. I’m not /your/ lover.” He paused to catch his breath, “you have no right to make this your problem, either. You’ve got others to worry about.” 

“None of them love you,” Matthew argued, “they’re just using you for instant gratification. They’re not cherishing you. They’re not…”

“Jesus, who am I talking to, Francis?” Alfred snapped in response, anger riling up nearly instantly. “Shut down all that talk of love. Not everybody needs love, Matthew. Not everyone has love. I get by and it hasn’t fucked me up yet. I’m actually very happy with the arrangement. It feels good and there’s no strings attached, just the way I like it.” 

Matthew frowned as he shook his head. “We both know that’s not true, Alfred. You wouldn’t try so hard to convince me if that were true. You’re hurting because you think no one loves you.” He took a brave step forward, “that’s simply not true. I love you. Arthur and Francis love you. We’ve loved you for such a long time, Alfred. We…”

“Just shut up, Matthew.” Alfred hissed, jumping up to meet the Canadian halfway. “Just shut up! You can’t just…just throw these things at me and expect me to fall at your feet in gratitude. You talk about love? You talk about how much you love me? Well, why has it taken you so long to admit it?” 

Matthew floundered for a moment. His face turned several shades of red, pink, and white before he stuttered out a response. “You…Francis and Arthur…they didn’t think….they didn’t think you were ready for a mature relationship.”

It was so silent in the room that Alfred could hear his own heartbeat. “Get out,” he said simply. He needed to think. He needed to be alone. Except, Matthew wasn’t moving. He was looking at Alfred with such a stricken look on his face. The American turned away, “please, leave. I need to be alone. I need you to leave.”

Since he was turned away from Matthew, he didn’t see the Canadian step forward to wrap his arms around his waist. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” Matthew whispered as he buried his face in the crook of Alfred’s neck. “I’m sorry we’ve hurt you, but I do love you. They love you, too.”

“I..I need you to go, Matthew.” Alfred was emotionally fried. He needed to be alone. He needed to not see Matthew right now. He reached down to remove those arms from around his waist. Oh, he’d wanted that for such a long time, but it felt cheap now. It didn’t feel real enough. He didn’t turn back around until he heard the door shut with a soft ‘click’. 

When he was sure he was alone, Alfred crossed the room to open up the mini-bar and proceeded to get drunk. He didn’t want to be sober and deal with this development.


	4. Treaty of Paris (Remake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur breaks first.

Alfred was really fucking drunk. 

He knew that because he’d gone straight from emptying out the mini-bar in his hotel room to drunk-dialing Mexico. They weren’t on the best of terms lately, but Juan never failed to pick up his late night phone calls. Over the past ten years, Alfred couldn’t even tell you how many times he high-tailed it to Tijuana to meet Juan for some brain numbing fuck. 

How else did he know he was drunk? Well, he was currently half-screaming, half-singing sad ranchera songs alongside his sometimes fuck-buddy. Juan’s arm was swung over his shoulder as he switched between mouthing the words against Alfred’s heated skin and grabbing a handful of the nation’s ass. He’d gotten through El Rey and was well into a self-depreciating version of Por tu Maldito Amor when Juan was practically torn from his arms. He scrambled to return the warmth to his side, but his hazy eyes could only focus on a furious pair of bright green orbs staring at him. 

Judging him. 

Making him feel stupid. 

“I’m taking you back to our hotel, Alfred F. Jones,” that sexy, stupid English accent insisted as he grabbed his wrist to take him away from the bar. Alfred wanted to go with him because he had always been weak to Arthur’s wishes, but all he could remember was the hot shame of Matthew telling him he wasn’t mature enough. 

He fought back. “No!” The shout seemed so loud in the bar to his hypersensitive ears, even if none of the patrons seemed to care he was in distress. Alfred felt stupid for letting himself get caught by Arthur. He shouldn’t have gone to the hotel bar. He should have gone anywhere else. “No,” he said in a softer tone, “I’m not yours to worry about. Go away.”

“Of course you’re fucking mine,” Arthur hissed as he made an attempt to grab Alfred’s flailing wrist again. “You’re a sensitive idiot, but you’re my sensitive idiot. I’ve fucked this up and I’m going to make it right. I’m starting by bringing you home.” 

Oh, it was everything he’d ever wanted the man to say, but it was a little too late. He knew this was just a trick. He knew this was just an attempt to get him away from Juan so they could berate him and tease him. No one ever, truly wanted Alfred. He stepped backwards and stumbled over a cord before falling on his ass. “Fuck,” he hissed wetly as the frustration and humiliation came crashing around him. “Go away, Arthur. Go the fuck away.” He balled his hands into fists and pressed them against his eyelids. (He’d lost his glasses somewhere along the way.)

Except, Arthur didn’t go away. He made a soft sigh as he dropped to the dirty, dingy floor beside Alfred and ran his fingers across the man’s face. “You’re a mess,” he said softly, “but that’s okay because I’m not leaving you. Ever again, if I can help it. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long.” He carefully took Alfred’s hand to pull him up. 

Maybe it was the alcohol rushing through his veins, because the American let himself be pulled to his feet and allowed Arthur to swing an arm around his waist. The walk back to the hotel was rough. Alfred’s stumbling feet refused to work and he sicked-up a number of times on the way. Each instance was highlighted by Arthur shushing his complaints and rubbing his back through the mess. In the morning, Alfred would be highly embarrassed at these actions, but right now he only cared about leaning into Arthur’s warmth. When they made it to the hotel room, Matthew was the one to open the door. He fretted like an old mother hen as Alfred rushed to the bathroom for another round of gagging. 

With Alfred hugging the toilet, the Canadian busied himself with making sure the sheets were turned down on the bed and that he had something for the man’s inevitable headache. As he searched through the bags, he turned curious eyes to Arthur. “I thought you were going for a walk?”

“What was I supposed to do? Leave him?” Despite hovering behind the bathroom and the bedroom, Arthur was quick to snap his head to Matthew’s direction. “He’s hurting and it’s my fault.” He dipped his eyes to dissect the carpet for a moment. “I should have recognized that he wasn’t..wasn’t some little boy anymore. I had to bring him in.” 

Though Francis was still mad about the earlier argument, his cool expression had been schooled into one of concern and forgiveness. “He’s sick,” he said as he heard Alfred retch again, “but we’ll take care of him. Grab some water and bring him to bed when he’s done.” The Frenchman pulled his hair into a bun as he maneuvered the pillows around on the bed. It was Matthew that brought a weak and disoriented Alfred from the bathroom and helped him onto the bed. 

“Don’t wanna mess up the bed,” Alfred complained as he curled up in the center of the king-sized bed. 

Matthew scoffed as he crawled in behind him and rubbed his hand up and down the America’s side. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of everything. You’re just gagging at this point anyway.” He accepted the offer of a bottle of water from Arthur. Gently, he encouraged Alfred to take small sips. “Just a little. It’ll help with the upset stomach.” 

When Alfred could drink the water without retching, Francis and Arthur turned the lights off, but kept the television on. It was muted, but the channels created a glow in the room. Francis could tell that Arthur looked miserable and he leaned over to give him a soft kiss. “You did good, mon cher. You were right to bring him home.” He glanced back to where Alfred had turned to bury his face in Canada’s chest. “He’ll be happy here.”

Arthur gave a short, jerky nod as he reached down to take Francis’ hand in his own. “We can only hope.” He nodded to the bed. “Come on, it’s been a long day.” He took the selfish route and climbed into the bed on Alfred’s opposite side and only scoffed a little when Francis curled behind him. With the duvet pulled over the four of them, they curled closer together. 

It was a tight fit, but it was the best sleep of Alfred’s life. It hadn’t really solved his problems, but it was the beginning of something new and beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue to go guys!


End file.
